Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

t e n

"So I say, ooh, ooh, baby
Take your feet out your shoes
And go crazy
Don't just dream in your sleep it's just lazy
Are we having fun or are we dazing, baby?"
Honey - Swim Deep 

Amara sat cross-legged on her bed, a soft, worn novel open in her lap. The dim light from the lamp on her bedside table cast a warm glow across the room, but her mind wasn't really on the words in front of her. Instead, her thoughts kept drifting back to the bag of clothes Dean had bought for her—comfortable, practical things that fit her perfectly, but didn't quite feel like her.

She appreciated the thoughtfulness behind them, the way Dean had paid attention to what she might need. But as much as the soft shirts and leggings had been a relief in those first days, something was missing. They weren't hers. She didn't feel like herself in them, not entirely.

Her fingers brushed absently against the fabric of her current outfit—one of Sam's shirts, oversized and soft against her skin. She felt a warmth in her chest at how easily both brothers had welcomed her into their world, but as she sat there, a quiet yearning tugged at her. She wanted to wear something that felt like her, something that made her feel more grounded in her own identity.

White dresses, soft and flowing, the kind of simple elegance that she had always been drawn to. It was cottage-core, delicate and demure—completely different from the world of hunting and danger she had stepped into. But it was a part of her, a side she hadn't shown the brothers yet.

She sighed, closing the book and setting it aside. The problem was, she didn't know how to ask for that. She had no idea where to start or who to talk to. Sam had been gentle with her, and Dean... well, Dean had been different lately. He'd been distant, colder, his usual teasing replaced with something harder, more condescending.

Amara frowned, glancing toward the door. Maybe Dean was the one to ask. He had gotten her the clothes in the first place, and despite his coldness, he was still... there. He hadn't completely pulled away.

Finally, after a few moments of deliberation, Amara stood and padded barefoot down the hall. She found Dean in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a beer in hand, his gaze flicking up to meet hers as she stepped into the room.

"Hey," she said quietly, unsure of how to start.

Dean raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Hey. You need something?"

Amara hesitated for a second before nodding. "I... I was wondering if you could take me out. To get some clothes."

Dean blinked, surprise flickering in his eyes before his expression shifted back to something cooler, more reserved. "Clothes? Didn't I just get you a whole bag full of stuff?"

"Yeah," Amara said quickly, feeling a bit self-conscious. "You did. And I really appreciate it. But... I kind of want to get some things that feel more like me."

Dean's jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't argue. Instead, he took a swig of his beer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Alright," he said finally, his voice clipped. "I'll take you."

Amara felt a wave of relief, though it was tempered by the coldness in his tone. "Thanks, Dean."

He shrugged, pushing off the counter. "Let's go."

The ride into town was quiet, the Impala's engine the only sound as Dean navigated the back roads. Amara sat in the passenger seat, glancing out the window as the buildings and trees blurred by. There was an undercurrent of tension in the car, the kind that made her feel like she was walking on eggshells, but she couldn't quite place why.